


saw the morning

by hellalujah



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-04 18:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10286036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellalujah/pseuds/hellalujah
Summary: “I'm in love with you,” Hugo tells him over Skype one day, like he's talking about what he ate for breakfast or commenting on the weather.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for a and the other k

“I'm in love with you,” Hugo tells him over Skype one day, like he's talking about what he ate for breakfast or commenting on the weather.

“Oh,” says Porter intelligently. “Oh.”

Hugo grins at him. “It's okay if you're not. Or if you are and you don't want to, ah, address it right now.”

He sounds like he means it and Porter stares at the monitor for a long time before he can make himself nod. “Okay.”

-

“So like,” Porter starts. “Are you still, uh.”

“In love with you?” Hugo asks patiently and Porter keeps his mouth shut, nods. “Yes, of course!”

He's laughing as he says it and somehow Porter thinks it should have been more impactful, more dramatic. It hasn't been awkward between them - or it hasn't been awkward for Hugo and Porter finds it very, very easy to follow Hugo's lead - but there'd admittedly been some concern when Hugo had invited him to Nantes to write their song.

“Okay,” Porter says. Hugo grins and passes him the bottle of wine they've been sharing and looks backs down at his laptop.

Porter watches him for longer than he should but Hugo doesn't look up so Porter glances away and takes a drink.

-

They finish their song and Porter wants to cry, wants to laugh, wants to throw his arms around Hugo.

He does all three but somehow ends up with his lips against Hugo's too and that really hadn't been part of his plan.

He doesn't stop, though. He leaves his arms around Hugo's neck and keeps his mouth where it is, keeps his eyes screwed resolutely shut until Hugo's arms come around his waist, till one big hand presses in between his shoulder blades to pull him closer.

Hugo kisses him back like he's been waiting his whole life for it and distantly Porter wonders if he has been.

-

Porter goes home with a mental map of Hugo's teeth and the palate of his mouth.

Hugo hadn't pushed anything, of course he hadn't. He'd kissed Porter when Porter had gone to kiss him, held hands when Porter had reached out - only ever in private, only where no one but they would know - and when Porter had crawled into Hugo's bed instead of going to the guest room Hugo had laughed, airy and pleased, and wrapped Porter up tight in his arms.

Porter leaves France with many, many questions and very few answers.

-

The tour starts and Porter spends the first couple of weeks avoiding talking about anything that isn't music or performing with Hugo.

Hugo respects his space like he always has but Porter can see the tension in the way he carries himself, in the tightness in his shoulders and the way his fingers curl and uncurl when they're next to each other like he wants to reach out.

But he doesn't reach out and Porter is equal parts thankful and disappointed.

-

Their break is a month long and Porter misses Hugo's presence more than he'd anticipated that he would. They still Skype every couple of days but it's different now. A little forced, no matter how easygoing Hugo is - or pretends to be - about it.

-

He's brushing his teeth for bed when his phone rings and it takes him a moment to process that it's Hugo's number. Another moment to do the calculations in his head and it's six in the morning in France so either Hugo hasn't slept or he's just waking up.

He spits in the sink and picks up the call and the second he says hello Hugo sucks in a ragged, wet sounding breath on the other end of the line.

“I had a - I had this dream - a nightmare, I. You.” He cuts himself off and Porter swallows.

“It's okay,” he says after a pause. “I'm okay. So are you.” Hugo hums and it's muffled like he hasn't gotten out of bed, like he's got his face pressed into the pillow. “Hey,” Porter tries. “Hey, I love you.”

Hugo barks out something between a laugh and a sob and it takes a second for him to respond. “Merde,” he says eventually, then laughs again, hoarse and breathless. “Shit, I love you too.”

-

He texts Hugo one night, when he's sure Hugo will be asleep, and tells him he loves him and misses him.

Hugo responds the next morning with a nearly identical text followed by half a dozen heart emoji and Porter smiles to himself for the rest of the day.

-

The tour starts again and there's still a sort of distance between them and Porter feels guilty.

Hugo still gives him space, still waits for cues rather than initiating anything and Porter is giving him more than he had on the first leg but not by a whole lot.

He’s being an idiot. He knows he is and he stews in it for days.

And then one night when they're traveling between New York and Philadelphia he slips out of his bunk and crawls into Hugo's. Hugo doesn't seem to wake up, not fully, but he pulls Porter into his chest anyway and presses a sleepy kiss to his forehead.

Porter doesn’t know what changed his own mind but once he's there it’s so easy to let his eyes close, to breathe in Hugo's scent and drift off in his arms.

Sometime in the night after Porter's mostly fallen asleep again Hugo pulls him closer and mumbles something in French that Porter's pretty sure means ‘I love you’. Porter hums, winds his fingers through Hugo's hair and holds on.

Porter sleeps in Hugo's bunk most nights after that.

-

It’s a secret, or he tries to keep it one.

If anyone else on the tour crew notices they don’t say anything but Porter can feel them watching any time he and Hugo drift off to the back of the bus together. The half-hidden little smiles when they check into a hotel and Porter and Hugo head off to separate rooms are barely hidden at all and definitely not unfounded.

They always end up in the same room.

“I think they know,” Porter mumbles one night, with his head buried in his suitcase so he doesn’t have to look at Hugo.

“About us?” Hugo asks and Porter can hear how he's smiling. “Yes, I think so too.”

An arm wraps around Porter’s middle before he can respond and he yelps when Hugo tugs him back against his body. But then his cheek and jaw and neck are being peppered in kisses and Porter can’t help the laughter that spills out of his mouth.

-

Hugo’s apparent ease with the situation helps a little but not a lot.

Even once Porter’s sure everyone knows he still folds into himself when Hugo reaches out. He still turns his head when Hugo hugs him and tries to press kisses to his cheek or mouth.

“Not where everyone can see,” Porter says hoarsely when Hugo gets an arm around his waist, when he nuzzles into Porter’s neck.

“Doesn’t matter,” Hugo mumbles, muffled, pressing a tickling kiss to the join of Porter’s neck and shoulder. “No one minds.”

Porter hums irritably and he thinks about pushing Hugo away but he’s being herded toward the back of the bus instead of the front and once Hugo shoves him into their bunk - technically Hugo’s, not _theirs_ but it might as well be at this point - it really doesn’t matter. Not for now.

-

The after parties are always easiest, of course they are.

Everyone's wasted, to begin with. And Hugo's always been affectionate, even before any of this - whatever _this_ is - so no one bats an eye at how often he throws an arm around Porter on stage. No one bats an eye at how often Hugo leans in to whisper in Porter's ear.

Of course, no one can see the way Hugo's lips brush Porter's cheek or the shell of his ear _every single time,_ and no one can see just how red Porter goes _every single time._

Hugo gets bolder with every show and Porter’s caught between the urge to punch him in the chest or grab him and start making out right there in the booth.

He’s got a lot of willpower, though, and he does neither. Even when Hugo catches his earlobe in his teeth one night and huffs out a laugh that makes Porter jolt and squawk, some awkward sound between rage and want.

“You’re a fucking dick,” Porter shouts in Hugo’s ear when he pulls away and Hugo laughs and laughs and Porter’s almost angry that he can’t keep himself from smiling back.

-

One day Porter slides into a seat next to Hugo on the bus and without thinking about it twines their fingers together. Hugo makes a surprised little noise and flexes his hand but Porter squeezes tighter and lays his head on Hugo's shoulder.

Preston giggles from across the bus and there’s a flare of anxiety in Porter’s chest, a split second where he wants to pull away and stand up and go. Crawl into his bunk alone with his flaming cheeks and hide under his pillow.

And then the moment passes and he lets his eyes float shut. The anxiety quiets and Porter squeezes Hugo’s hand once more.

-

It gets easier.

They go on break again and they Skype every second day before they meet up in Europe, before Porter can visit Hugo in Nantes again.

“Where it all started,” Hugo says dramatically when he arrives, waving around his bedroom.

Porter laughs and throws an arm around Hugo’s neck, kisses him because no one’s watching and it this point he doesn’t think he’d care even if anyone was.

-

“Do you like girls? Out of curiosity.”

The interviewer is smiling when he asks and Porter’d thought he’d heard every weird left-field question by now but he’s decidedly unprepared for this one.

He laughs and it sounds hysterical to his own ears.

“Yeah,” he manages. “Yeah, I like girls, yeah.”

“That, I won’t answer.” Hugo responds before Porter even turns to look at him and it's the tight kind of casual that Porter knows isn't casual at all.

Afterward Porter pushes Hugo away when he tries to sling an arm around his shoulders. “Why did you answer like that?” He shouldn’t be angry, he knows. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t mean anything.

Still, his stomach is tying itself in knots and his fists stay clenched at his sides.

But eventually Hugo shrugs and pushes his glasses up his nose. “I don't like girls,” he says, completely deadpan. “I like you.”

The tension in Porter’s shoulders seeps out all at once and he stares for a beat before he wheezes out a laugh.

“Oh my _god_.” He punches Hugo in the shoulder but there’s no anger behind it, not anymore. “You’re so… _god._ ”

Hugo’s grinning now and even with people passing around them in the radio station lobby Porter lets him pull him into a hug.

-

In Australia they don't bother booking separate hotel rooms anymore and when their opening acts give them knowing looks Porter just shuffles in a little closer to Hugo, nudges his way under his arm.

Hugo squeezes his shoulder and Porter doesn’t need to look at him to know how wide he’s smiling. 

-

The last show comes faster than Porter could ever have imagined and he'd thought he was prepared. But he's an easy crier even on a normal day and god, this is anything but a normal day.  
  
The last notes play and the crowd is screaming and he's meant to go out and wave, to smile and bow and thank their audience but he can't move, he's frozen behind his keyboard with his face in one hand and the tears are coming, now, like he'd known they would. Because they had to come eventually.  
  
"Porter."  
  
He forces himself to look up and Hugo's there, one hand outstretched and a blinding grin splitting his face.  
  
Porter doesn't hesitate reaching out, taking Hugo's hand. And he's not supposed to do that, they're not supposed to do this in front of people - his rule, he reminds himself, not Hugo's - they're not supposed to hold hands or do anything more than hug because they're both so deeply private but this is different. This is special.  
  
Hugo pulls him over and he's leading him to the front of stage and Porter stops. Tugs on Hugo's hand, tugs him into a hug.  
  
"We did it," Hugo murmurs in his ear and Porter can hear the smile in his voice, the excited little waver.  
  
Porter laughs and pushes away and before he can think about what he's doing he kisses Hugo right there in front of their audience.

The crowd screams and screams and Porter wonders, while Hugo’s mouth moves against his - curling into a smile, Porter knows it well enough by now - what he’d ever been so worried about.


End file.
